The Old Ways
by dude04
Summary: AU sixth year. The war between Slytherin and Gryffindor was fought a thousand years ago. Since then the wizarding world has changed, evolved over time. But now the heir of Salazar Slytherin will wage war against modern wizarding society using the old ways
1. Chapter 1

The Old Ways

Chapter 1

Just like the rest of the United Kingdom, Surrey was covered with a roiling grey mist that refused to lift or be dispelled in any fashion. The strange mist blanketed the land, seemingly swallowing all the modern muggle structures and making travel by auto extremely dangerous.

And all across the land there were people, sometimes whole families, found in a catatonic state that defied logic and refused all cures.

A grim mood had gripped the nation, and it was only getting worse.

At the window of the smallest bedroom of number 4, Privet Drive, stood one boy who knew the origin of that strange grey mist that stumped so many muggle scientists.

And he was pissed.

Ron Weasley had been enjoying his summer very much despite the grim state of affairs in the world... He had gotten through his O.W.L.s just fine, and Hermione Granger had been visiting him often at the burrow. Things in that department seemed to be progressing, finally.

And then one day last week an unsettled Albus Dumbledore dropped in on the burrow for a visit. He brought with him grave news.

Harry Potter was missing.

Or to put it more accurately, he had run away. For reasons unknown - or perhaps the Headmaster simply wasn't sharing them - Harry had left the safety of his relatives' home, even taking the time to say goodbye - and then simply disappeared.

A hasty order meeting was called at the Burrow - their new meeting place as the security at Grimmauld Place had been compromised by that blasted house elf - and a decision had been made.

They would scour the country for Harry discreetly, but in the mean time it would threaten the boy's safety should the dark forces that constantly watch his home were to notice he was missing.

So while Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Ruined-Ronald-Weasley's-Summer was out doing Merlin-knew-what, Ron had taken his place at four, Privet Drive as a decoy.

The polyjuice potion tasted as horrible as it did in his second year, and Ron had to take it twenty-four times a day, every hour on the hour.

Ron hated to admit it, but he made a lousy Harry Potter... the seclusion forced upon him by the many locks on Harry's door was nearly intolerable. The lack of food was DEFINITELY intolerable. But he had learned not to complain to the Dursleys about their treatment of him. He rubbed his bruised jaw absently, cursing that fat muggle cousin of Harry's, Didley was his name?

It didn't matter what the fat bastard's name was, Ron told himself. He would be out of there as soon as they found Harry, and with Albus Dumbledore and the full weight of the Order searching for him, surely that wouldn't be long.

Ron's stomach growled angrily, demanding food, but there was no Molly Weasley there to cook for him... no stash of chocolate frogs or Bertie Bott's Beans. He would just have to wait for the Dursley's to remember to feed him.

Ron cursed Harry to seven hells for putting him in this position. He flopped down onto the thin mattress that was half covered with a threadbare blanket, swearing under his breath. He thought of Hermione, as he often did, and hoped that an owl or SOMETHING would come for him soon, releasing him from this hell that was Harry's life.

The Forbidden Forest was forbidden, Harry remembered with a snicker. It had been a week since he had flown away in the dead of night on his broomstick. The flight had been long and cold, but by dawn he touched down at the edge of Hogsmeade village and proceeded into the forest on foot, prepared to make a life there for the coming months.

The forest was large - how large Harry didn't exactly know. Tall, imposing hills (they seemed like mountains to Harry) surrounded the lake and sheltered Hogwarts castle and Hogsmeade village. It would be impossible to find anyone in the forest, and that's what Harry was counting on.

The forest was home to many plants and animals that had magic of their own, wild and free. He could practically taste it in the air at times, and he knew that amidst all that wild, untamed and unregulated magic his own would not be detectable.

The few days he spent at the Dursley's were the worst he'd ever spent at Privet Drive. His thoughts would not cease their torment of him, and his sadness would not abate. His fifth year at Hogwart's was, by all accounts, a complete disaster.

But not his disaster.

Mistakes had been made by everyone, including himself, but mostly by the Headmaster, Dumbledore... at the end of the term Dumbledore had admitted, close to tears, that he had made several glaring errors. He admitted it was a mistake to distance himself from Harry, abandoning him. He admitted it was a mistake to force him to work with Professor Snape, whose hatred knew no bounds. He admitted it was a mistake to not tell him the prophecy sooner... and he had admitted he loved Harry, like a favorite grandson.

And it was that last confession that saddened Harry the most while he sat there at Privet Drive, alone and ignored, abandoned again...

If Dumbledore knew his mistakes, why was he not correcting them, Harry had wondered. And why, if Dumbledore loved him like a favorite grandson, had he abandoned him again to muggle hell... without so much as a word to him in those last week's after Sirius's death?

And as Harry's sadness grew, he knew what he must do.

And so Harry had set out with nothing but his iron will to survive and a few possessions... he was on a quest, a journey to find himself and perhaps, at last, some peace.


	2. Chapter 2

The Old Ways

Chapter 2

Tucked away deep in the forest, nestled in the valley between two ancient hills was a cave, its entrance shrouded by ferns. The rocky entrance was small, not nearly large enough for an animal of significant size to enter, but perhaps a snake or a rather skinny boy of fifteen.

Mere steps beyond the entrance the tunnel grew wider and then opened up into a cavern that extended deep into the hill. From the main cavern there were tunnels, dark winding tunnels that led to larger caverns.

Harry's new home pleased him. It was carved out of the hill with purpose, the rock walls hewn to smooth perfection. A creature of intelligence had created these ancient caves, Harry knew. Perhaps a wizard of centuries long since gone...

The darkness was thick, but easily dispelled by blue smokeless flames (a specialty of Hermione's) that Harry conjured. The fires littered the walls on makeshift torches, the blue light gently illuminating the interconnected caves.

In the largest cave a blue fire filled a carved out hole in the center of the floor. Rickety furniture made of transfigured wood, generously provided by the forest, was set about in a deliberate manner. A purple-squishy sleeping bag lay in the corner on top of a cushioning charm, a number of folded blankets stacked against the wall nearby.

Harry had been very busy in the week and some days since he had made the forest his home. The Order wasn't alerted to his disappearance until they had come to investigate three days after his arrival at Privet Drive - when his first 'check-in' letter didn't arrive as instructed. In that time he had ample opportunity to pick up supplies in Hogsmeade.

At Flourish and Blott's he selected a number of texts related to his magical pursuits of the summer, as well as restocking on parchment, quills, and ink. At a wizarding supply store he had bought some camping gear, including his sleeping bag, some blankets, cooking utensils, and a cauldron. The shop-keepers had been only too willing to help him shrink his items down (he didn't dare perform underage magic outside the protection of the forest, which blanketed his magic with it's own) for him.

_Massster. _The hiss reverberated around the cave, bouncing from rounded wall to rounded wall, making an echo.

_Yes, little one?_ Harry hissed. Harry had made good use of his parseltongue ability - inspired by Lord Voldemort, oddly enough, he had come to rely on his innate ability to speak to and control serpents.

_Master, I've brought you a jumper. It is raining. _Harry smiled, amused that he could detect a hint of a whine in the snake's hissing.

_You may take refuge here, little one. Bring the jumper to me, make yourself comfortable by the fire._ Harry hissed.

From the darkness of the tunnel a large snake slithered, dropping onto the floor silently, a large rabbit hung limply from it's unhinged jaws. The snake slithered over to Harry's makeshift worktable where he was scratching away with quill and parchment, taking notes on apparition - his first project of the summer. The snake deposited the 'jumper' at Harry's feet as a dog would, then curled itself about the warm fire.

Harry wordlessly took in the size of the snake - one of the many that often visited him - and not for the first time thought it strange that they let him call them 'little one'. This particular snake, like many of the forest, was anything but little. Harry thought that, perhaps, the snakes saw him as a mix between a snake and a wizard, some god-like creature to be revered. After all, they all called him master.

Harry pushed these thoughts aside and took to his feet. Above a pit in the far corner he hung the rabbit from a hook that lowered from the ceiling. He aimed his wand carefully and cast the necessary spells - dark arts - to skin the rabbit and remove it's organs. After the words of magic were spoken the pit below was cruelly filled with a splash. Harry winced, not quite used to this part of food preparation that often caused him to lose his appetite, or even a previous meal. He vanished the contents of the pit with his wand.

From the floor he picked up a twig, transfigured it into a needle and then enlarged it with _engorgio._ He impaled the rabbit on the long metallic spike and set about roasting his dinner, a pleasant conversation with the serpent about the gossip of the forest flowing easily from his tongue.

* * *

The mornings were Harry's favorite part of the day. The mist that floated through the trees - given off naturally by the lake, was a far cry from the unnatural, dark mist that had swallowed surrey as of late. Each morning Harry bathed himself in the lake, emerging refreshed and energized - more so than he could ever remember being.

On the mornings that Harry was lucky enough to catch them, he watched with admiring eyes as a pack of black wolves - frequent visitors to the lake's edge, emerged from the thick pine trees to drink their fill.

They were large with jet black hair, powerful legs and bright eyes. They were strong creatures, that much Harry could see with his own eyes - but they didn't seem to possess any magical qualities other than their abnormal size, perhaps twice as large as a normal wolf.

Perhaps that was just natural evolution, Harry mused - they would have to be large and strong to survive in these harsh woods.

His home was littered with drawings of the beautiful animals he had come to be so fond of, despite not having interacted with them.

But he had selected his form, he knew.

The animagus transformation was his second goal - magically speaking - of the summer, the first being apparition. If he accomplished just those two abilities... well, it would be much more than he would have ever accomplished at Privet Drive, wasting away to skin and bones.

His father and godfather - both animagi - had accomplished the feat in three years while at school, finishing up the project sometime around Harry's current age. _But they had to hide it from Dumbledore, and McGonagall, and most of all, from Remus. They could only work on it during the full moon,_ Harry reasoned with himself. _I can work on it day and night if I want, for months solid. There's no reason I can't do it._

And in time, he would prove to be right.

* * *

A month later in the dead of night, Harry awoke violently, his body wracked by tremors and cold sweat dripping from his hair. He pulled his wand from the side table and flicked it silently, the blue-bell flames about the chamber roared to life.

Harry sat up in his bed - yes, he managed to transfigure the sleeping bag and blankets into a real bed, much to his delight. His daily use of his wand to perform even the most minor of tasks had improved his magical abilities greatly. Such flippant use of magic was frowned upon at Hogwart's, though, and Harry couldn't for the life of him figure out why, considering the benefits that had come with being intimately familiar with his own magic.

Shoving these thoughts aside, Harry recalled the vision he had while sleeping. Lord Voldemort had sacked a muggle town during the night. He and his Death Eaters had broken into homes while whole families slept. They weren't tortured, they weren't dismembered or even taunted. They were struck dead - often in their sleep - by the killing curse and their bodies were portkeyed away.

It simply didn't make any sense! Harry rubbed his scar furiously. Why was Lord Voldemort passing on the chance to use his favored cruciatus curse? Why wasn't he killing people graphically and laughing maniacally? And more importantly, why did the Death Eaters want the bodies?

Harry briefly considered alerting the order, but that would mean giving himself up... and probably being forced back into a summer at the Dursley's. He was accomplishing so much on his own, though, it would be a real shame to waste his progress...

In the end, he decided there wasn't much to be done for it. Lord Voldemort had already done his damage, and hey, that's Snape's job, right? To be the spy?

Uneasily, Harry dimmed the lights again with his wand and settled back under the covers. But sleep did not come again, only wild theories about Lord Voldemort's plans...


	3. Chapter 3

The Old Ways

Chapter 3

"Bane believed his camp to be somewhere in the next valley." Dumbledore told the assembled team. Trudging along behind the old man (who was surprisingly fit) through the lush forest were Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Remus Lupin.

"I still find it difficult to believe that the centaur came to the castle, Headmaster." Snape said. Dumbledore merely smiled and, pointing his wand tip toward himself, levitated his own body up onto the next ridge.

When the other Professors and Lupin had gained purchase on the ledge next to him, he replied, "I believe they were finally tired of a wizard living among them. They are fiercely protective of their forest, as you know."

"First time a centaur's ever been useful, if you ask me." Snape grunted. McGonagall glared at him.

"I believe, Severus, had it been any other wizard they would have attempted to kill him. The stars tell them that Harry would live beyond such an encounter, however. Or perhaps they know how important he is in our society and don't wish to draw our anger." Dumbledore answered smoothly. "They wanted him out of their forest and so told those who would remove him."

The team stood along the topmost ridge at last, facing down into a valley. A large, rocky hill, equally large as the one they were on stood in front of them, the drop between was easily several hundred meters. There could be no slipping on these slopes.

"They say he lives here?" McGonagall asked, eyes wide. From their vantage point they could see the lake and just barely make out the turrets of Hogwarts castle in the distance.

"It is said he lives under the hill. It is also said that fierce serpents guard this valley with their lives. Predators dare not enter any longer." Dumbledore whispered, his wand out. "Be on your guard, Professors."

It was McGonagall who saw the faint frown on the Headmaster's face. She had seen him face far greater dangers than a few snakes and meet them sans trepidation.

"Albus?" She asked quietly. "What is it?"

Dumbledore's frown immediately vanished, a small quirk some smile taking its place. "I was just remembering something strange the centaur said. He told me that predators no longer come to this valley," Dumbledore repeated, then he continued in a confused whisper, "but the wolves, they come and go as they please."

In the end, Dumbledore did have to fend off a few rather impressively large snakes. He accomplished the feat with jolts of electricity jumping from his wand, attacking the serpents. The snakes were startled but slithered away unscathed. Dumbledore halted the group with an abrupt motion of his hands. He was staring at the forest valley floor with something akin to amusement.

"We must be getting close." Remus guessed, his acute eyes swept the forest floor for more dangers, his wand was out and ready.

"Indeed I believe we are, Remus." Dumbledore confirmed. "Now we must work on the wards."

Snape scoffed audibly, drawing the attention of the team. His wand was weaving in and out of the air in front of him, silent detection spells prodding at the surrounding area. "I feel no wards, and I doubt Potter could create any of strength."

Dumbledore only smiled. "I believe you are looking for the wrong kind of wards, Severus."

And when Snape strode forward confidently, a sneer on his face, he was thrown backwards through the air. He landed with a strangled cry in a thick bush of nettles. He promptly burnt the bush away with his wand.

"_Revelius!"_ Dumbledore incanted, sweeping the area with his wand. To everyone's surprise but Dumbledore's, thick white lines appeared on the forest floor.

"Age lines." Dumbledore pronounced with glee. "A page from my own book, I believe."

"N.E.W.T. charms." Snape scoffed, rejoining the group. "He hopes to keep the Dark Lord out with a school boy's spells!"

"Why so many age lines?" Remus asked in confusion, ignoring Snape, who was healing his wounds from the thorned bush with his wand.

"He is ensuring that only a person of his own age can access his camp, I believe." Dumbledore replied. From several paces away McGonagall called out to them. "Look here!"

When the group joined her she pointed out two straight lines, two meters apart, that lead through the valley. "The other lines were curved, these are straight." She stated with puzzlement. Dumbledore swept his wand again, forcing more lines to reveal themselves. True enough, two curved lines joined the end of the straight ones.

"It's a maze." Remus whispered. Dumbledore smiled. "Indeed."

"But Albus, what use is a maze if some of the lines can be crossed?" McGonagall asked. Then a look of understanding alighted her face. "Oh, I see."

"I don't." Remus spoke up, unembarrassed. Dumbledore obliged him with an explanation. "As Professor McGonagall rightly realized, the maze would be a weaker defense if some of the age lines could be crossed. That only tells us that the lines probably can't be crossed at all. Chances are that young Harry set them at an impossible age. Something no human could ever cross." He explained with a brilliant smile.

Snape scoffed at the pride on the old man's face. "Can you not dispel them?" He asked incredulously.

Dumbledore hesitated. "There could be... unseen consequences. I think it best we try to walk in Harry's footsteps for now before we invite trouble."

For once Snape held his tongue, only nodding once.

"I'll go." Remus volunteered. He stepped past McGonagall, who had her wand at the ready to catch him if he were to be thrown off his feet. And when Remus stepped between the white lines, the most surprising thing yet happened.

The maze began to move.

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Harry was in the middle of cooking lunch when it happened.

_Massster!_ Came an urgent his. _Massster! Wizards approach!_

Harry halted immediately. _Did you see them? _He hissed.

_Massster... there are four. An ancient wizard leads them. One smells of the dark. The witch is not fully human, and a dark man that smells of boomslang._

_Do not attack them._ Harry hissed reassuringly. _Tell the others the same. Go. _He commanded. And then he paid the snake no more attention as he gathered his many rolled scrolls of notes and drawings from his desk and began packing them away in his trunk.

They couldn't know he was an animagus. He didn't want them to know that he could apparate. He took the books down off his shelf and stashed them as well. When all his books and notes of questionable nature were packed away, he shrunk the trunk down and put it in his pocket.

The wards fell.

Harry knew it would take a bit of time to locate the entrance and then, he presumed, Dumbledore would have to enlarge the opening. As it was, it was getting harder for even Harry to squeeze through, having grown a bit over the months.

With a resigned curse in parseltongue Harry pulled a butterbeer from his stash (he went into Hogsmeade again just after learning to apparate) and sat back down at his desk, waiting for the inevitable.

The butterbeer was warm but a cooling charm put it in order. The light of wands started to filter down the tunnel.

"Back here!" Harry called out, directing them. His voice sounded foreign to him, a side effect of disuse. Over the last months he'd had nobody to talk to, with Hedwig being in the owlery at Hogwarts. The only speaking he'd done over the summer was in parseltongue.

In those last seconds before his minders found him, Harry decided he didn't much care for hiding out anymore. He had accomplished what he set out to do - even more, and summer was coming to a close as it was.

It was time to go back to Hogwarts.

"Hello, Harry." The kind voice of Dumbledore greeted him. Harry met the old man's eyes with a smile, tipped his butterbeer in recognition, and greeted him back.

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Authors Note: A quick explanation about the name of the story. 'The Old Ways' is a referance to how things used to be back in the time of Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor. In Harry's time such ways have been forgotten. Voldemort will remind them by waging war the old way (and you'll see how) and, to fight him, Harry will have to learn the old ways himself. The point of all of this... my favorite part of Harry Potter is the 'timeless feel' to it all. The castle, the scenery, the quills and parchment grins. I'm trying to take the 'modern wizarding world' in the books and revert it back to the days when dragons roamed free and so on. The only limit of this story will be the imagination.

Thanks for reading!


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